


Thunder

by Waistcoat35



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Phillip, M/M, Phillip suffers, Phineas is a sweetheart, Protective P.T., Thunderstorms, but igs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35





	Thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lullabelle_moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabelle_moon/gifts).



He’s in the main tent when the rumbles begin – it’s quiet, only a few of the performers milling around and idly chattering to one another as they run through the choreography of one of their acts. Shows have been cancelled today, due to the state of the ground outside  - if they put sacking down they might have been able to get people in, but Phillip isn’t keen on risking anybody’s safety, and it’s one of the few areas where Phineas won’t make exceptions. (And isn’t it ironic, Phillip thinks, that nobody else is allowed to risk getting hurt – when Phineas himself leapt into an inferno to go after him. It’s almost sad – the comparison between Phineas’ concern for others’ safety and his concern for his own seems to reflect in uncomfortable starkness just how much he thinks of himself, sometimes.)

It is the lack of fanfare in the ring that allows him to distinguish the sound from that of their own drums; there is a contrast between the electric crack of the instruments and this ominous rattle, one that curdles his stomach the way no amount of drink ever could. His shiver is not due to the draught coming from the ajar window, and all of a sudden Phillip feels slightly sick. Best not to say anything, thought – no, no, no, no. Everybody’s busy, everyone’s doing something – they’re kind, really, they might try and reassure him or talk to him through the storm – but he’d be wasting their time, really. Even if nobody said it, the thought would pass around like wildfire, communicated by nudges and whispers and looks the likes of which he got too many of when he was still at home.

(The way the chandeliers would jangle whenever a thunderclap sounded above the house, the way everything jolted when a bolt of lightning hit the spire, the way he’d be nursing a flute of champagne or sitting with guests at the ornate dining table and _flinch_ just so whenever it got too loud, the way they’d stop and stare and _whisper_ , the way he’d meet his father’s gaze and suddenly realise that a storm was the least of his worries- _no. No._ He’s only making it worse, now.)

Luckily, nobody really notices his departure when he softly makes his excuses, slipping out of the ring as quickly and discreetly as he can despite the click of his shoes on the floor.

* * *

 

Phineas made his way down the corridor, handing out beaming Cheshire grins as though he had come into possession of a never-ending supply. He probably did – whenever he felt as though his supply was finally exhausted, as though he might never grace a soul with one of them again, one of his daughters would boop him on the nose, Lettie would force him to have a cup of raspberry tea, Phillip – God, Phillip. Phillip would smile at him, one of those softer, shyer affairs that made his eyes twinkle and the smooth skin around them crinkle. Place a gentle hand in the forest of curls on his head, lean their foreheads together in a way that made him spark as though they were two live wires touching ends.

Actually, where was Phillip? Everything was reasonably quiet today – he’d finished working through his paperwork and sifting through his end of the finances (considerably smaller than Philip’s – even Phineas would admit that he probably shouldn’t be left to manage that part of things,) so perhaps they’d be able to take lunch together. He raised his eyes to the ceiling at another low rumble of thunder; hopefully it wouldn’t strike nearby and spook the animals again.

Phineas came to a stop outside his office, toe of his shoe clacking in place as he tapped his foot in thought. Coming to a decision, he leaned over the rail and shouted down to Lettie.

“Hey, Lettie! You seen Phil anywhere today?”

She turned at his intrusion, looking around until she found him and fixed on him, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Think so, hon – he was around here not ten minutes ago, but he left – something about having to… uh…” She chewed her bottom lip contemplatively. “I don’t know why he left, actually – just mumbled a lot before walking off. I think he went upstairs, where you are.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Lettie!” That was odd – he’d just traversed the whole upper corridor looking for the man, with no results. Where else could he possibly-

His train of thought was derailed as another rumble sounded, a lot closer this time. Several of the horses were whickering nervously, but despite this, he managed to pick out the muffled whimper that punctuated the sound. Struck with an idea, he pressed an ear carefully to the frosted glass of his office door – and that’s when he heard it again, the whimper becoming a high keening sound as the roaring outside increased in volume. There was a curdling in his gut – something was wrong.

Phineas was easing the office door open when the first fork of lightning hit, the room flashing white and briefly scalding his eyes as he jumped back and knocked his shoulder on the doorframe. When his vision cleared again as he was rubbing the joint, his focus fixed itself on an oddly shaped shadow underneath his desk. His suspicions were confirmed when he ventured closer – Phillip was curled up beneath the large mahogany furnishing, eyes screwed shut and head hunched around his shoulders, trying to bracket out the noise as his arms coiled around his knees.

Oh, dear.

* * *

 

It was horrible. Horrible, horrible, _horrible_.

Phillip’s muscles, if at all possible, coiled up even tighter with each new rumble. He could feel himself shivering, body tensing then jumping at intervals. Freeze. Jolt. Freeze. Jolt. Was he dying? He wasn't sure - there were disjointed thoughts swirling around in his head, of flashes and shattering chandeliers and stinging slaps, ( _stop being such a baby, Phillip, you're a coward, Phillip, you honestly think that your inability to stop being pathetic because of a little thunderstorm, you think that's worth my time? I don't think so._ )

 

He thought he heard the door creak through the little gap between his shoulders and his ears, but then the world lit up just in front of his eyelids and his ears were ringing, his hands shooting up to cover them while yanking at his hair, in the desperate hope that the bite of pain in his scalp would stave off his growing terror.

Just then, he realised there must've been somebody coming into the room; warm, calloused hands suddenly enveloped his own, and he must have let out another whine because there was a deep, soothing voice right by his ear, thumbs slipping between his hands and ears to rub a gentle circle of pressure onto his palms, coaxing him to release his hold on the abused strands.

"Shh, sh sh shhhhhh, easy, Phil, take it easy-" Phineas? Was it Phineas?

"It's just me, just Phin, nothing's gonna hurt you-" Oh, thank God - it was  _Phineas_. 

"Hey, buddy - what's up? Tell me what's wrong, that's it, it's alright." With the insistent pressure on his hands still rubbing, Phillip brought them down from his head and shakily reached out, hand pressing to a knee. He slowly inched open one eye - then the thunder cracked again. This time he yelped, jumping enough that he smacked his head on the desk. There were more soothing noises, Phineas' concern seeping through into his voice as he stroked up and down Phillip's arms.

Sometimes, in storms like this, Phillip's mind is not all in the present, and the flashes change the welcoming, warm figure into a severe one with greying hair. This is when he backs away, attempting a weak struggle, then promptly freezing when something is draped over his head. Something silky and soft and red - it's Phineas' coat. His special one. And he's using it to block out the sound around Phillip's ears, hazel eyes flickering as their gaze caresses his. Everything is slowing again now, his senses a spooked horse that has been reined in and brought to a nervous trot. Phineas' voice filters back in, still mellow despite being gravelly with worry, still whispering soothing promises and shushing noises. Phillip does not surprise himself all that much when he leans forward and burrows into Phineas, his face against the older man's warm stomach before he is lifted slightly into his lap, where he inhabits the crook of Phin's neck.

 

* * *

 

It would seem that both storms are now over - both the literal one and that of his partner's mind. Phineas lets him settle in his lap, the younger man snuffling into his shoulder as their warmths curl around one another.

"See? There you go, there we go, you did so well, you were so brave. Phil. Oh, Phil." He can't help the sadness that leaks into his voice - seeing his lover like this hurts more than even his imagination could have prepared him for. "I never knew that thunder did this to you - I'd have been here before, if I'd known."

 

"S'alright - didn't wanna bother anybody."

He tightens his hold around Phillip, tone fierce. However, it is the ferocity of the sheepdog who is guarding the lamb -  not the lion who prizes his kill. There is only softness, only reassurance meant to be drawn from that strength. "I don't think you could ever bother me if you tried, Phil. You can always come find me for things like this, right?"

Phillip gives a tiny nod."It's always been like this, really, since I was little. I've just never liked storms like this - my parents thought I was just making a fuss over nothing, it annoyed them - so I tried to suppress it." 

Phineas gives a soft sigh. "A fear many people get over in their childhood years. But it's carried in because it was never really resolved, was it, Phil? They never told you it was alright. That it isn't weak to be afraid. That it isn't your fault that sometimes, things scare us. Sometimes, they even scar us."

"But I'm the one who couldn't just deal with it on my own - I always end up relying on someone else - often

 you - to-"

"No," he carded his hands through Phillip's hair, smiling sadly at his soft sound of pleasure as he leaned in slightly. "No, it's not your fault. It's not, and I'll help you whenever you need help  - because I want to, because I love you, because you are never a bother to me and you never will be." Phillip went quiet, and Phineas could feel his shoulder growing slightly damp. 

"Thank you - so, so much. But - do you think I'll ever stop being afraid?"

"You know what? I think you will. And if you want - if you're alright with it - I'll help you."


End file.
